Corpus Vile
by Hana Sakurano
Summary: He stares deep into my eyes, drowning me in an endless sea of emeralds. His gaze was full of worry, pity, love, his own feelings threatening to stir the soul in this despicable body of mine, a mere mass of cadaverous bones and skin suited for experiments and plays only. That is, if I do have a soul. Sweet devil AU.


It's already one in the morning. Yes, I haven't been looking at any clocks, but I am quite sure what time it is.

At least this body is still good for something.

After a brief moment of mindless walking, I finally reach it: a mahogany door, its knob made out of brass, tinkered and carved to look like the other doors inside this manor. What makes this particular door unique, however, is that fact that the room it conceals contains my most precious, green-eyed _rose._

I look at the door longingly, hiding my hands behind my back. My memories that have been altered by that Russian bastard to haunt me like nightmares were making me lose control lately; who knows what I'll do once I open that door.

Nevertheless, I slip into the room without even knocking. Suddenly, I abruptly get this feeling akin to regret, but I try to calm myself down. I have had enough misery for a decade.

Barefooted and with no candelabra on hand, I approach the center of the room.

And there he is, sound asleep. His hands are placed on top of his stomach, while his blanket covered his body from his waist downwards. The way he sleeps – so stiff, so silent- makes him look like he is dead.

I climb up the bed to study him closer. Gently, I set my knees and hands on either side of his frame so that I'm hovering over him, and watch as he continue to breathe at a slow, steady pace.

Even without any source of light, I can see him very clearly. With a light hand, I caress his cheek, running a thumb over his perfect nose in the process. Now that I am positioned on top of him, I can finally look at him as much as I please.

His blonde hair spreads out like a fan underneath his head, as golden as the halo he once owned, which I find to be quite adorable. His long, thick eyelashes brush against his cheek, and his nicely-formed lips, colored peach petal, pout a bit at me. Along with his delicate features is a heart that remained pure despite everything I try to taint him dark, and a mind capable of thinking straight during times of panic.

This person beneath me is the ultimate symbol of beauty and intelligence. My past partners pale in comparison to him, and I have to laugh.

And so laugh I did, until I catch sight of his pale neck.

There were those times in the past when I made marks on it with frenzied bites and rough kisses. I remember engaging in _those_ acts with he'll hide every evidence of our coupling with knitted scarves or fixing the way he walked.

Does he remember those times, though?

Before I can stop myself, my hands reach for his tempting neck in an attempt to mark him as mine in a different way.

Long, long ago, I have failed to contain my lust and desire for his body. Now, I have once again failed to contain the desire that the both of us detest…the desire to destroy pure, beautiful things. Here I am, attempting to choke every particle of air out him using my own bare hands.

Then I notice something…my hands, they are barely able to loop around the circumference of my lover's neck.

Ah, I have forgotten, haven't I?

His frame is petite and so is mine, for I am currently trapped in a body of a child not older than nine, a body I find so hard to control.

My small stature fooled so many people this past century, while my dutiful partner here agreed to act with me in this twisted play, a mere illusion set up to fool countless more.

I submerge myself in self-satisfaction as he started to suffer, his face showing his agony.

But under those lies, there is guilt.

_Please, don't get me wrong. I want to stop myself, I swear. It's just that_…

He tries to gasp as I pressed my hands together further.

_It's just that I can't, I'm sorry._

_This feeling is wrong, I know_.

This body, I hate it.

It failed to restrain my ever-so turbulent and unstable feelings countless times before and it's failing me again. Even though I retain all sense of what is right and what is wrong, this body defies everything I believe in and acts like a prison with a life of its own.

The feeling of regret from earlier begins to get worse. If only I haven't given in to my impulses then perhaps I-

My trail of thoughts suddenly stops as a bony hand grabs my wrists.

Arthur has awakened.

He looks at me and I look back at him. I see his eyes glowing red. Wait, that's not right; his eyes are supposed to glow green whenever he uses magic, not red…

Ah. The glowing red in his eyes must be a reflection of mine.

My eyes are the ones glowing red.

I can't even control that much. I'm so pathetic.

I hate, hate, _hate _this body.

Arthur's grip on my wrists is starting to loosen up.

_Please, please, don't die. Please, don't die on me, I never wanted this to happen._

_If _you_ can't stop this outrage, nobody will ever be able to_.

I see his other hand rising up to me. Like he is reaching for my neck as well.

But, no.

He reaches for my cheek instead.

He stares deep into my eyes, drowning me in an endless sea of emeralds. His gaze was full of worry, pity, _love_, his own feelings threatening to stir the soul in this despicable body of mine, a mere mass of cadaverous bones and skin suited for experiments and plays only.

That is, if I do have a soul.

Either way, he smiles at me. I gasp inwardly. Leave it to someone like him to smile at times like this.

"You look like you're about to cry." Really, Arthur? I can't tell in my current state, you see. "It's all right, you can continue-"

Once again, the restraints that are actually nonexistent fail to stop me. Before he can attempt to speak another word amidst the danger of being choked to death, my lips landed on his. I wasted no time invading his cavern with my tongue, but he let me take the liberty and even kissed back. Sometime during all of that, my grip on his neck loosened up for good.

Arthur finally manages to hug me not long after and I'm changed back to normal.

He starts coughing wildly, so I try patting him on the back. Somehow, he managed to stay alive without breathing for so long.

I am thankful for his magic.

"You've lost control over your body again, haven't you?" He smiles again, ruffling my hair. "But you're fine now; I'm so relieved."

He has experienced so many of my senseless acts of mischief that he doesn't care anymore. Indeed, that is one thing that makes this body useful. It's in his blood, perhaps, to instinctively care for a child. No matter what wrongdoings I do to him, he always forgives me in this particular form.

He lies down on his bed again and I follow suit, resting my head where his heck meets his shoulder and sprawling my arm over his chest. He pulls the blanket up to cover the both of us and I feel myself being lulled to sleep with the sound of his heartbeat.

He hugs me some time during four o'clock and I hug him back.

Being confined in this body allowed him to love me back.

* * *

**Le wild notes appear!**

There's this lingering sweetdevil!au that kept on bugging me. I know that some of you are not entirely comfortable of having a child (in physical form only, of course) Alfred kissing a very manly angel Arthur…but to be honest, I like those scenarios too much.

And I'm too young to be thinking of such scenarios.

Sorry if the overall format of the story is confusing. I dunno, I just like vague stories I guess…

English is not my first language.

Reviews make me happy.


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